Alright, I had this massage gift card burning a hole in my w..
Added 2025-03-29 18:30:16 +0000 UTCAlright, I had this massage gift card burning a hole in my wallet forever, and I finally decided to cash it in. I’m a chick, but I’ve always been lowkey obsessed with the idea of a “happy ending” massage—you know, that thing dudes always brag about? I figured it’s probably not a thing for women, but a girl can dream, right?
So I show up, and the guy they pair me with is decent-looking. His face is, eh, whatever, but his body? It’s like he’s been sculpted out of pure gym-bro energy. I strip down buck naked because, happily, that’s the deal—and he tosses a towel over me. I’m lying there on the table, feeling all exposed and tingly, and I let the blanket slip down to my waist, hoping he’d get the hint. But nope, this dude yanks it right back up over my back like he’s my freaking mom tucking me in. Lame.
My tits, as you know, are pretty big, so I’m squirming around, trying to get comfy, and finally, I just blurt out, “Hey, can I get a pillow for these puppies?” His face goes tomato-red, and he stammers some apology while grabbing one. That awkward slight blush of his? Yeah, it made my pussy perk up like it just heard the ice cream truck. I’m soaked already, and he hasn’t even gotten to the good parts.
Then he starts rubbing my glutes—ass cheeks, for anyone who didn’t take Anatomy 101—and I swear to God, I can hear my cunt down there making these wet, slurpy noises. It’s like she’s trying to start a conversation with him. I’m dying of embarrassment but also turned on. I decided to test the waters and “accidentally” brushed my hand against his dick while he was leaning over me. Score! I totally touch it, and I feel it twitch a little, but he jerks back like I pinched him. I sneak a peek at his crotch and another score. He’s rocking a semi. My brain’s like, “Oh, maybe he’ll let me suck it or something,” but no, he’s too busy turning into a human stop sign.
He finishes up the massage, all stiff and professional, and I’m lying there frustrated as hell, my lady boner raging. He’s only 23—I found that out from some small talk earlier—and I’m thinking, “Dude, you’re 23, live a little!” In the end, he bolts out of there so fast you’d think I farted or something. But before he vanishes, he mumbles, “Hope you come back,” and slips me his schedule. Like, what? Is that code for “Next time I’ll let you blow me,” or just him being polite?
Now I’m stuck wondering if I want to shell out more cash for another rubdown. I mean, he’s hot enough, and that semi was promising, but if I’m not getting a happy ending, what’s the damn point? I’m not here to pay for blue balls—or blue clit, I guess. Maybe I’ll go back and just straight-up ask him to finger me. The worst he can say is no, right?
